Where We Rest
by Leviathian
Summary: Ace is a cherufe, a volcanic entity that lives in the heart of a volcano. Marco is a phoenix just looking for a warm, isolated place to roost for his annual rebirth. (Written for marcoace week 2019, rated T for temporary character death)


Welcome to the monster mash yall.

* * *

There's been something new, on Ace's island.

Something bright blue. Always too far away to properly see– he had thought it was a star falling to earth at first. That was until it swooped and circled, and _landed_.

Right there. On his island. Right in pen of the many steep books and crannies of Ace's dips and dives, the tiny cliff faces of his home.

It had been there for a few days now. Steadily hollowing out a roost right there in the cracking obsidian and stone, as if the whole island wasn't so hot that the air curled and distorted.

Ace was confused. He was fascinated too, and maybe a little worried— but mostly confused. Nothing else had ever been able to withstand his home. Those who had, he'd easily changed out with a spit of magma or two— no one's patience for the environment included a very, very active volcano.

Or its very, very active resident cherufe, living within its heart.

Not that others didn't try. Luffy sometimes appeared on the mouth of his home, laughter breathy and hissing with another story of a new friend he lead on to their dreams. He'd vanish in another snap of blue, always moving on and on to the next with a wish, never able to stay, but that was okay. Sabo vanished a long time ago. His human body hadn't been able to withstand the heat— and then after the other humans came for him—

Ace will never forget the fear in the human's eyes, as something both familiar and not dragged him into the ocean and took him. Sometimes he wished Luffy would just show up with their lost brother in tow, bringing him home on a wish unknown.

It was all wishful thinking; Ace had been alone for over a century at least.

Alone long enough to have no one to ask, when the weird blue thing decided his volcano was the perfect place to sleep.

That was the real kicker— whatever it was, the Thing had really just been spending a lot of time sleeping. He only ever caught it during the first hours of dawn, and the moment the sun was dropping from its highest peak it was back in its nest as if it had never left.

Ace was starting to get antsy about getting a closer look.

What was the harm? It didn't know he was there— and even if it did there wasn't exactly a huge amount of creatures that could harm Ace. He was practically incorporeal— made entirely out of his heart's lava. Nothing short of dropping him in the ocean would cool him enough to touch, much less hurt him.

_I'm being stupid_, Ace decided, and slipped out of his heart over the lip of his volcano.

The Thing wasn't there— Ace had seen it fly off, as it did every morning. But even in his magma spitting, stony home, it was easy to find the exact little crevice the creature had chosen. A jutting outcropping with edges smoothed by spilling lava and cooling sheets of obsidian that seemed to form a little scooping cliff off the side of Ace's volcano.

Which was also, for some reason, filled with wood. Not even twigs— whole tree branches snapped off, and entire splintering chunks clearly sliced off a whole tree. He could even see some smoothed driftwood, dry and homey in the center of the hoard.

"What the hell," Ace sputtered. "Is it trying to build a bonfire? On a volcano?" What kind of being didn't think magma was hot enough? Ace was on the verge of setting the mass off just by standing too close— surely all the lava he poured out routinely to reinforce his home was enough to keep the island warm and well-lit?

_What the hell is trying to live here?_

He got his answers quickly. Too quickly— so quickly that he panicked. The thing's singing was getting louder, heralding its return as Ace watched the mass of blue practically free-fall from above the clouds. Ace dematerialized, sinking into the many fractures in the ground even as he refused to flee as he should— watching.

Unable to tear his eyes away, as the distant blue blob quickly became wings, a golden tail, and feathers that flickered and licked off the bird's body like—

_It's made of fire,_ Ace realized, and was startled by just how much _relief_ that gave him. _It's a bird made of fire._ A very, very _large_ bird made of fire, carrying a hunk of wood so big it almost rivaled its own mass.

Ace watched its massive talons sink into the wood with ease, and maybe was only a little worried for his health.

_Birds are territorial, right? Sabo said big ones need more space— maybe I should— _

Burning blue eyes stared straight at him. Ace flinched and immediately slid deeper into the chasms. He sank and sank until he was directly back within the deeper upwelling of his heart before even trying to reform. "It's a _bird,"_ he said to himself, unsure whether he was more confused or awed. "An animal that can actually _live_ here."

An animal that made him just slightly less alone, even if it was a huge towering fire-bird with claws big enough to rip a chunk out of him if he were human.

His magma bubbled unnoticed, swelling with the surge of his heartbeat.

* * *

There was something new on the island.

Marco was... maybe a little worried. Maybe a little annoyed. But not too much— because he was starting to get a feeling whatever kept him company was just as human as he was.

Even less so, possibly, because he was halfway certain the volcano itself had somehow taken a liking to him.

He had been worried, when he first scoped out this little island— between this and the caldera he had been considering, the volcano was a hundred times more active. Fire could never hope to hurt him but Marco had been more concerned about whether the lava would routinely wash away his nesting site— bury his roost with molten minerals and ignite all of his hard-earned wood. It almost had more than once. The first day alone he lost the initial stack of firewood he had carried; whitebeard's gift supply burning up in a near-instant just from proximity. (Frustrating, annoying, to lose all that incensed and enchanted wood from his more woodland-like fae siblings— to have to start right back over, flying so far when he was already so close to his annual rebirth—)

But after the first day, all the magma seemed to redirect itself.

It wasn't something he was really able to ignore. Not the supernatural curve of the lavas path, cutting a wide swath around the specific little cranny he had chosen. the volcano seemed to flat out retreat from where he had roosted. Even the ground under his talons pulsed with a cooler warmth, no longer thrumming under him like a giant's heartbeat.

(He was torn between being grateful for the consideration and unreasonably irritated, to lose that low hum of heat so similar to the vibrating beat of whitebeards massive heart, when the giant settled to sleep with Marco tucked neatly away on his chest.)

But there wasn't exactly much he could do, was there? A volcano wasn't exactly a prime entity to have a conversation with— and Marco was still maybe a little worried that he would be intruding on the being's hospitality. Even he would be hard-pressed to ignore a wide-scale eruption.

Especially so, so, so close to his rebirth. He had no idea what would happen if his ashes were scattered before he could reform from them.

Either way, he would be there for a while yet. Settling snugly down into his pile of wood, Marco set his nest ablaze and sank deep into the flames.

* * *

The bonfire burned _blue._

Ace was fascinated by it. He had never seen blue fire before— wasn't aware it came in any other hues than his white sparks and deep, warm reds, oranges and yellows. The first time, he had watched for hours from the safety of his volcano, upper half just barely hanging over its lip to watch with an almost starving eye as flames flickered brilliant and cool. The bird was near indiscernible within. It never moved, barely twitched— just buried itself in the flames until dawn broke, and it would fly away as it did every day to find more wood to burn.

It was _beautiful._ Ace wanted so badly to see it up close.

(Wanted it to stay, to sing. Please don't leave. _Please don't leave again._)

Ace tried to help. He really did— it was an honest attempt. He even left his heart to do it, carefully entering the bordering jungle to find trees. But every step onto cool grass left a blackened footprint and dead, smoldering plants. Trying to walk on the beach almost buried him whole. If he stayed still too long he would sink up to his thighs in molten glass like quicksand— and when he finally reached the actual trees, he nearly started a forest fire. Trying to actually touch the tree incinerated the entire plant.

He spent so long trying that his legs began to harden to black.

Frustrated, he returned to his heart just to wash the clinging glass out of his new cracks, replenishing himself in the heat of his home.

Ace wasn't able to help the bird make its nest. He couldn't bring it wood, and he didn't know what it ate (or if it did— maybe it worked like how Sabo explain frogs drinking water? Did a bird made out of fire have a stomach at all?)

He wanted to help. He wanted _so badly_ to help.

(_Want to get closer,_ his mind treacherously revised, _want to not be alone. Want to touch, to talk— please don't leave me here._)

The bird left at dawn, as it always did, and Ace got to work.

* * *

Something was wrong with his nest.

Marco perched on the edge of his roost, carefully leaning his head down to peer at the new rim seeming to cup his chosen nest. Compared to the little nook Marco had attentively carved out for himself, his nest had seemingly doubled— the volcanic outcropping hollowed out and reinforced to form an unnatural sound of cup jutting out from the side of the volcano.

The hard lava was still suspiciously warm under his talons.

The new dip in the rock formation was the ideal depth and width to set his wood, with still enough room for him to comfortably settle inside. He wouldn't knock bits of his nest down by stretching his wings anymore either— and any wind would be harder pressed to disturb his flames.

It was perfect. The picturesque nest he could only ever dream and plan for and never get.

Lava bubbled behind him and Marco whipped around, feathers raised and hissing— and saw nothing. No mysterious entity, no volcanic spirit— just the usual glowing cracks in the obsidian and wavering hot air.

It was all too unsettling. Too perfect, too precise— what kind of sentient hot spot could do carefully construct a nest like that?

Marco dumped his cargo, spilling his kindling unceremoniously into the scoop of his nest before taking off again.

It only took a handful of powerful wingbeats to hover high above the lip of the crater. He was so close that the heat radiating off the molten rock made his feathers glow brightly– almost iridescent in the face of the lava below. Perching, he stared carefully down. At first glance, the volcano was just that. There was nothing strange or unusual about how the magma churned below him. Nothing to tip off that there was anything strange to be aware of– and yet. Marco breathed in deep, a lungful of sweet ash and thick smoke, and began to sing as loud as he could.

The ever-present heat under his talons seemed to _shift._

Marco didn't even pause. He crooned through a series of high trills and chirps, calling the way he always did, when he would leave home (His siblings had asked he warn them, centuries ago, those who had more sensitive eyes unable to take the light of his feathers without warning. Whitebeard had just been happy to always know when his son was home. He had never stopped, and they had never asked– the song carried even far from his true roost). It was easy for his eyes to catch the low stirring deep in the lava.

Practically indistinguishable, a glowing figure groggily stretched up and out of the pool. Its skin was white-hot, flecked with bits of molten, dark material melted into the figures reforming body. Marco caught a glimpse of silvery eyes before he took off back into the air.

_A cherufe,_ he thought numbly. _I can't believe there's any left._ Roger and Rouge had been the last ones he had known about– but they had already been dead for centuries. Withering quickly, outside of their hotspots; not even having half the genetics of a dragon and an elf respectively had stopped the slow cooling process that had taken them both.

(Rouge had vanished, cooling and alone, and no one ever heard from her again. Either she returned to a hotspot and slept within or she hardened to pure obsidian like her lover. Marco honestly hoped that she was happy with whichever one she chose.)

It was only his long-standing respect and memory of the duo that kept him from taking off as far as physically possible. Even so close to his rebirth, he wasn't entirely sure he would be able to stop himself from trying to find a whole new roost to avoid the volcano.

But… so far the entity had been nothing but welcoming. Even to a trespasser living on it, no matter how temporarily– and the new nest was a wonderful improvement. As far as hospitality went, Marco didn't have grounds to complain.

_Maybe I should... bring an offering back with me, _Marco thought hesitantly, alighting back into his nest. _Not that I know what cherufes accept as a proper offering, anymore._ He wasn't about to be tossing young virgins into lava as a thank you, but maybe some gold coins, or gems? Would a cherufe even recognize that as a sacrifice? _I can't believe I'd ever hope to see Rouge or Roger again, if just to ask._

Marco dragging his feathers across the wood, reigniting his bonfire for the night. It wasn't worth thinking about just yet. The sun was still fairly high in the sky, but he could spot the luster of his feathers turning tellingly duller with every hour spent outside of his nest.

Only a few more days until his rebirth.

* * *

_The bird isn't leaving as much._

Ace curled up deep in the heart of his volcano, carefully stretching his awareness to the farther fingers of magma boiling beneath the creatures nest. Sure enough, it was still there. The same as it had been when he last checked, hours ago. _It keeps coming back faster and faster. Did it like my gift? _Would it fly away still, when it had such a perfect nest? Ace had spent hours carefully shifting that magma together, impatiently waiting for layer after layer to cool into place.

He had been so happy when the bird had accepted its new roost. Not that he would tell anyone that. (Not that he had anyone to tell.) maybe next time, he could expand it more— add more space for more wood, maybe it'd like that? (Maybe it'd Stay?)

Either way, high noon had already long past. The bird always left at dawn without fail. but with each day it was coming back sooner and sooner as if exhausted, wings sluggish and tail feathers dropping. It would barely move, once it lit its nest in that now familiar blue haze.

_I hope it isn't sick._ Seas, he hoped it wasn't sick. He didn't know what he would do (what could he, he couldn't help anyone— all he could do was burn, and burn, and _burn—_) if it was sick.

Ace pulled back into himself. Into a defined shape, curled tight and soft white with heat in his bed of magma. The bird would be fine, as long as its bonfire was still lit.

* * *

A hundred more years alone could have passed, and every single one would be unparalleled to the jarring realization that Ace hadn't woken to singing. He wasn't a child anymore. He had been alone since Luffy left for his adventures, over a century ago— silence was nothing new. But this was a newfound sort of quiet– one that he had stopped anticipating.

Ace scrambled to get up– dragging himself over the mouth of his heart's crater towards where he knew the nest was.

The bird was still there.

Ace skid to a halt, barely far enough away to avoid the heat haze surrounding him from incinerating the nest. It hasn't left, he thought. It hasn't left yet. Dawn was already long gone– without the usual wake up call, Ace had slept straight through the early morning and well into early noon. It seemed the bird had too. There was virtually no noticeable difference in the nest. It laid still, the same way he had seen it settle in the day before. The only change was less wood. The bird's blue flames burned so differently than Ace's own lava and fire– even after blazing all night, the logs were barely eaten away at.

The bonfire held as big and bright as ever, its denizen silent and still in its center.

It didn't move. Didn't look up, didn't even twitch– nothing to acknowledge it was even aware of Ace, when he knelt as close as possible. For a long moment, he just stiffly watched. He half expected it to whip upright, claws reaching for him; but the longer he sat still the more he relaxed. _I don't think it's awake,_ he thought, and finally allowed his eyes to rove over the stretch of flickering cerulean plumage. _It's so pretty… I wonder what it is?_ Sabo would have known. Luffy probably knew too, if there were more creatures like this, out there on his travels… _I wonder if it would wake up if I tried to touch it?_

He quickly extinguished the thought. (Carefully, quickly, like a match thrown into the sea. He should know better. He _had_ to know better.)

Slowly, he folded his knees in close to his chest and settled in, watching the fire lazily lick off the bird's body. _I hope it wakes up soon. I want to hear it sing again._

* * *

It took hours before Ace snapped out of his low drowse. The sun had dipped much lower on the horizon than he had expected– the bonfire still stretched so high and wide that the nest appeared as if in daylight. It hadn't even lowered, since Ace had dozed off.

He uncurled himself, wincing at the low creaks and grinding of cooled obsidian crusting his outer skin. Being within range of his Heart slowed the process, but he would likely need to return to the vents and refine his physical form for a bit. Just long enough to melt himself back down, just enough to glow smooth and warm and healthy again–

Which required him to leave the nest.

Ace stopped stretching. Slowly, he craned his head towards the lip of the nest and peered in, frowning in confusion to see the bird still exactly the same as it was hours previous. Not a feather was out of place. "Is it... okay?" He wondered lowly. worry clotted and cooled thick in his throat. _It hasn't moved. Why hasn't it moved– is it sick…?_ There wasn't anything he immediately recognized as wrong, but it wasn't as if he had anything to compare the bird to. _What if this __**is**_ _how it looks when sick?_ Ace suddenly thought, chilled and nauseous, _what if it isn't supposed to look like this, what if it came here to __**die**_—

He shot to his feet, glowing with panic. The longer he looked, the more he swore things were _wrong_— plumage a little less vibrant, fire a little less tall— "I'll get more wood," he said quickly, "I'll— I'll figure it out, I'll keep the fire lit— please don't d—" the words strangled, cut off and awkward and Ace _flinched_ from the sharpness of it. "—don't stop burning," he finished weakly. _Don't go out, don't extinguish, don't go cold and still and __**dead—**_ "I'll be back soon."

Even if he had to burn down the entire island to do it.

* * *

Nothing was working. Why was nothing _working?_

Ace paced through the newest swathe of ashes. He had tried over, and over, and over— and just like they had every time, the jungle seemed to fold under him— wide patches of plant life smoldering to nothing before he even touched it. Without even making contact every tree he came near ignited so hot that it didn't even have a chance to spread. He was a contained supernova on a rampage.

(—and just like always, destruction was the last thing on his mind. His nature was to burn, not to destroy. It seemed no one but Luffy and Sabo had ever stopped to see that.)

Another desperate reach, a frantic attempt— and another tree exploded into ashes before Ace could even grasp it.

A pained sound erupted out of him. Frustration made him burn all the hotter. Left pulsing, radiating liquid heat, he was almost white with panic. "Let me," he grit out, "_please, let me..."_

_Let me save it. Please don't make this be what kills it— please don't make __**me**_ _what kills it—_

The one other living creature that had been able to be so _close_ to him.

_Please don't take this from me._

But nothing was working— he knew from the start, knew he was running a useless, pointless, stupid endeavor— was he just a _joke?_ The destructive, magma-hearted monster, trying to save a bird because he was _lonely— _

"It's not _funny!"_ He screamed. His hands flew to his head, so violent in motion that lava splattered in an arc away from him with a loud hiss. "_Please, it's not funny!"_

He had no idea what he was supposed to do. No clue of how to help, of what he was helping, of what was _wrong_—

Was it the heat? Did the bird just not be able to take it as well as it thought? Was it just too exhausted? Was it _starving?_ He had no idea how he was supposed to tell what was _wrong_— what kind of birds had blue feathers and _cold flames— _

_Cold_ was bad. Cold was what killed his parents, took his mom as she was hunted from volcano after volcano, strangled his useless father to low-lit embers and used charcoal— were the blue flames _supposed_ to be cold? Maybe that was what wasn't right, maybe the bird was decaying like Ace would be. Smoldering on the last inches of wick.

Ace dropped the charcoaled plant remains still smoldering in his hands and charged back towards the volcano.

He didn't even give himself time to hope. No thoughts, nothing beyond the shrieking mantra of "_maybe this is it. Maybe this is it"_ that got louder and louder the closer he got to the familiar bonfire. It was lower. Burning less brightly, standing shorter— slowly but surely _going out._

The bird hadn't twitched an inch, and Ace clumsily _threw_ himself into the nest.

He reeled backward, nearly tripping back over the rim of the nest to avoid stepping on one of the logs still burning inside. The flames licked at his feet, at his hips, his chest, his hands— cooling his rabbiting pulse down to a simmering orange and red over blinding white. "I won't burn you," he promised. It didn't matter that the bird was awake to hear him. He wanted— _needed_ to say it anyway. (Needed someone to know he was trying to _help_— that all he wanted was to protect, to warm, to heal and safeguard— and the bird wasn't awake to not believe him, so he only had himself to believe in.) "I'm going to warm you up. I won't burn you."

The feathers were so soft under his palms that it made Ace's chest clench. If he had been human he would have wept. Instead, he carefully knelt beside the massive creature, hesitantly wrapping his arms around it. Coaxing his own warmth down between feathers, sinking his heartbeat deep into chilled skin.

_Be warmed,_ he thought, starved with the thought. Warm, and awake. _Alive to share my heat— I give it to you freely—_

Blue eyes opened, hazily glowing with a dulling golden light, and Ace could have melted to nothing right then and there.

The bird twitched, a confused chirruping noise rumbling out of it. Ace couldn't help smiling widely when its head lolled towards him. Despite that he was bound to be gored, or hissed at— nothing could compare to the molten relief that bubbled through him. "Hello," He croaked. His voice was cracking and wrong, stuttered and rasping as if he had dragged his vocal cords behind him for miles, but the genuine joy he felt shined through every crack in his cooling form. "H-hello!"

Those huge blue eyes (blue as the sky, he thought giddily, and felt like sobbing to finally be seeing them) widened in recognition and Ace let out a slightly manic laugh at the weak "You're—" that escaped it.

"You can talk," he whispered in wonder. "All this time, and you could _talk—"_ how much time had he wasted, giving gifts to a being just as awake as he was—

Feathers crumbled to dust under his fingertips.

Ace's face collapsed into horror. The bird let out a low coo, shaking out its massive wings and Ace almost screamed to see its body _decaying_ before his eyes. Ash was filling the nest, suffocating the bonfire with every feather. "No, no, no, no!" He cried. "No, _no,_ why are you still dying?!" The bird only stared at him, eyes glassy and huge, and Ace wanted to melt down to _nothing_. "What am I doing _wrong?!"_ He sobbed. "I don't know how— _I don't know how to help you...!"_

There were no answers. Nothing, nothing, nothing he ever did was _right_— He surged forward, every limb cracking with the effort. The bird didn't even react when he held its face between his darkening hands. "What do I need to do?!" He asked desperately.

That long beak parted, greying chest filling with air, with an _answer_— and left Ace with nothing but ash in his hands.

The bonfire was all snuffed out, cold flames to cold air. All of the heat had sucked itself out of Ace's body. His heart barely beat. All he had left of that magnificent, beautiful creature was mountains and mountains of dust. Dust up to his ankles, dust piled in his lap, dust filling his hands. Compared to his blackened, chilling skin the grey was as vivid as bloodstains.

His hands couldn't even shake. Tears of reddening, darkening magma slowly slid down the cracks in his face, bleeding out of him like tears. The heat had no room to flow anymore. "I _killed_ it," Ace whispered, disbelief turning his voice tremulous. Smoke whistled out of his eyes. His mouth was slowly freezing, hardening into the shape of his words. If he stayed out of his heart any longer, in this state— he wasn't going to be able to return at all. "I killed it."

He chilled like that, kneeling for not the first time in all the ashes he had made.

* * *

Marco's awakening was as they all were. Familiarly disorienting, every sound and color and touch too vivid to immediately process. Newly built nerves too sensitive to do more than carefully pry himself awake.

Marco's memories, as they always did, returned in slow candle-flickers of recollection; and ended on the last of his sights before rebirth, framing the glowing cheeks of a terrified young cherufe.

The Phoenix's eyes shot open.

His nest was untouched— half-eaten remains of his logs still choked out and cold. Clean of ash and empty. His nest was made almost pristine of it. Every wall dark with chilled magma, carefully crafted and created—

Marco's eyes fell on the disturbance in the magma and a distressed, discordant noise tore out of him unbidden.

"No, no, no—" he transformed without thinking, landing hard enough on softer human knees to have blue flames erupt from his skin. He didn't care. His hands reached unhesitantly for the kneeling figure— not even taking a thought to consider whether touching him like that would swallow his palms in heat.

It was _terrifying_, to not even be singed.

"No, no! _Goddammit!"_ Marco hissed. Stumbling on new legs, he braced a taloned foot against the edge of the nest and yanked at the volcanic man, gritting his teeth painfully when he refused to budge. "_Fuck you, no,_ you don't get to just— to _just—"_ not over him. He would not allow this. _He would not allow this._ "I don't even know your _name_ yet...!" His arms spun with blue, exploding into feathers that blazed so brilliantly he was momentarily blinded by them. Claws carefully curling around the being's body, he flapped hard. It took a handful of powerful wing beats to even nudge the figure— a series of nauseating, splintering cracks echoing like snapping bones from where its legs had melted and hardened into the floor of his nest.

"You're a _bastard,"_ he snarled, sick and afraid, and made for the mouth of the volcano like a shooting star.

So lost in his haste, the idea of _dropping_ the other didn't even register. Wasn't considered for even a moment— Marco's wings were already tilting, and then he was plummeting. Both of them, streaking straight into the heart of the volcano.

Marco hit the surface of the magma with a shrill gasp. The pain was instant. Too much for his body, too new and fresh to handle, and he was left shaking heavy clumps of lava off his feathers as he clawed his way up and out of the main upwelling. The cherufe was already swallowed by its heart— Marco struggled to pick out the sinking form before he could fully return to his original form.

_I hope it isn't too late,_ he thought treacherously. _I'm going to be really _unhappy _if it's too late._

Flicking the last dredges of magma off, Marco took back to the sky. Unlike a cherufe, there was little to nothing to stop _him_ from hovering. For as long as it took for the other mythical to reform.

_I will meet you. I will hear your name— you will not die before I can thank you. _

* * *

Ace woke slow, sluggish— his whole body humming with heat. Practically buzzing with it, as if all his limbs were waking up after a long sleep. Like he was finally shaking off a heavy chill. Even still liquid, flesh and limbs absent among his Heart, he almost felt as if he was _vibrating_.

_It's so warm. I can't believe I could still feel so warm. _He shuddered as he reformed, rising a head above his bed of magma to blink open new eyes. Fresh ears finally structured and kept enough for him to hear the low vibrations for what they were, dipping and twirling notes, echoing like a greeting within the walls of his heart–

Ace entire body glowed white-hot. He scrambled out of his pool, heart pulsing like a solar flare– turning his face up towards the sky.

"The bird," he forced out, the words crackling and popping like bubbling lava, hissing with heat, "The bird, that's– _wait–"_ He pulled himself over the lip of his vent and gasped, pulsing almost blue as familiar golden tail feathers brushed past his head. The bird was _huge–_ far larger than it had been, curled up and crumpled in its nest–– even from a distance Ace wasn't sure it's wingspan would be able to clear the mouth of his heart. Its colors were all different– chalky, smoky blues replacing with vibrant flickers of cyan and azure, sun-bright golden feathers snaking off it in a healthy glow.

Alive. Bigger, brighter, _bluer_ than ever.

Ace raised his hands with a shaky laugh, chest expanding as if to desperately try and swallow the sky. "You're _alive,"_ He cheered, the words thrumming with molten _relief_– "You're so _beautiful!" _

The trilling song rose, weaving and diving and rising higher and higher– and Ace nearly toppled right over the edge of his volcano when the bird maneuvered into a complicated spin _straight for him._

"Wait!" He shrieked, flailing in panic. "Wait, you– You're going to–?!" Memories dredged up in a rapid-paced flash. Ashes, dust digging into his cracks and crevices, choking out his cooling body with what was left of a corpse– "Stop, stop, _stop–!" _The mass of blue hit him like a _hurricane_. Ace flung his hands out, shrieking in fear as he tried to push the bird away only to freeze at the distinct lack of feathers under his palms.

Above him, bright blue eyes glittered with gold, excited and exhausted all at once, framed in a tanned, decisively _human_ face. Cool, strong arms twisted around the dip of Ace's lower back without even a flinch from the lava that should have been eating through golden skin. A hand took Ace's frozen one in its own as blue wings beat strong enough to fling them upwards– spinning them skyward like dancers disconnecting from the ground.

"Hey," The bird-man-being shouted. Even mid-air, free-falling, he looked so genuinely _giddy_ to be face-to-face with Ace that the cherufe wasn't– couldn't _process–_ "_What can I give you?"_

Ace's mouth opened and closed uselessly. He doubted he looked very cool in that moment, gaping like a fish– he was barely grasping being in the air, much less in the arms of creature currently neither a bird nor dead. "W-What?!"

That damned arm, braced firmly over his lower back, splayed over a molten hip, pressed him tight against some _very_ solid muscles. Ace hoped he wasn't burning white in the cheeks. He was waking up enough to finally take stock of where he was, once the man slowed their dance to something slower, hovering high above the blip of Ace's island– awake enough to move, to check all his new body parts.

Like his hand, which had braced itself around the man's neck– and his face, which was barely centimeters from a wide grin.

"_G-Give?!"_ Ace stuttered out. Trying to jerk back wasn't working. He was molded flush against the other– and squirming was not something currently on his list of options, not when he couldn't even feel the constant radiating heat from his heart– if he wasn't glowing white already, he was now. "What do you– I don't even know who you– _what are you?!"_

The laugh that ripped out of the man, deep and delighted, made Ace feel shaky all over again. As if the song was sung directly _into_ him, trembling under his skin. "I am a phoenix," he announced, "My name is Marco! I want to thank you." Ace began to protest, tried to manage saying something more coherent than just startled noises but all his words choked tight and high pitched when the bird– the– _Marco,_ his brain frantically supplied, pressed his forehead carefully to Ace's own. His eyes were so, so _blue._ Even now, Ace was taken aback by them– to see them so _close–_ "I _need_ to thank you," Marco whispered, "Please. _What can I give you?"_

"I– anything blue." Ace blushed so hotly that his freckles flared. "Red coral," He amended quickly. "Um– If you have to." He never got any anymore, without Sabo, or Luffy– without anyone to dive into the reefs for him. It had all melted away, a lack of proper handling inside his heart. "Red coral is good."

The misdirection didn't work. Marco looked far too pleased– but it was too late to try and pretend Ace wasn't absolutely _fixated._ "It's a deal," he promised, "As much of it as you want– whenever you want. But," Ace gasped as they began a lazy spiral back towards the ground, Marco twisting expertly as if Ace wasn't as heavy as several, tightly packed boulders– "what is your name?"

Ace blinked. Marco laughed, breathless and amused, and Ace wanted to sink deep into his heart and sleep for a century. "It's Ace," He managed. "My name– I'm– Call me Ace." Marco smiled at him so impossibly _brilliantly_ that Ace wondered if he'd looked down to see himself _melting._

Barely a moment later Marco was tucking his wings in tight. Ace watched through huge eyes as legs he hadn't had the room to see before stretched out, striking talons so deep into lava splashed obsidian than Ace couldn't help but think back to how those same claws could have so easily split him before. Marco lowered him down and Ace carefully slipped back into his pool, reconnecting himself to his heart without slipping away from Marco's side. "You're a _phoenix,"_ He finally had calmed down enough to whisper, "I've never seen one before." Never even heard about them– couldn't remember Sabo or Luffy ever mentioning such an incredibly mythical– and how could they have _not?_ Marco was _incredible–_

"The only phoenix," Marco corrected, and Ace's heart sank and rose in equal, terrifying measures. "I am the only one. I've been living with Whitebeard, far from here. I had no idea that any cherufes lived at all, before coming here." Ace had no idea what showed on his face, but it was enough to make Marco wince. "If you'd like, I could take you to see them?"

_Leave?_ Ace's mind whispered. _Leave my heart? _

"I'd _cool,"_ He spat. None of his vitriol was for Marco, but it came out anyway– the truth of it sinking like dry ice lodged in his throat. "I can never leave this hotspot, I'd– I'll––"

"You _can,"_ Marco whispered, and even standing in the middle of his magma Ace felt abruptly cold. "Didn't you notice?" Marco said gently. "You haven't hardened even the slightest, while in the sky with me."

Ace had taken it up to his slow processing. Chalked up his reactions to the shock of the situation, to being lead on a mid-air dance with a being he thought was dead– "_What?"_ He croaked.

Marco's flames, ever so blue, so incredibly blue– cool to the touch even after his so-called rebirth– "Phoenix fire is healing fire," Marco told him. "As long as you don't stray too far, for too long– you will not go cold. Not with me." His flames died down and Ace jerked back, unsure when he had laid his hand in the phoenix's. Marco let him go with a somewhat sad smile, eyes glazed over as if he was thinking of something else. Someone else.

(_Rouge,_ Marco wondered, _could we have helped you…?)_

"Will you come with me?" Marco asked again. "It's fine if you don't want to, right now– even if you never want to. This is your home. I can always visit."

"Visit?" Ace managed to mumble out. He was still helplessly reeling, almost swaying on his feet with the weight of everything happening all at once.

"Whenever you'll have me. I'd… I'd like to see you again, if you'll let me." Some part of Marco would always be just the slightest bit haunted. Sickened by the sound of snapping and crumbling, from the strain of his muscles trying desperately to yank Ace off the ground where his legs had cooled into place. But the louder part of him was fascinated, intrigued–

–was pulling at him with enough gravity to take the wind out from under him, yanking him closer and closer to this living pillar of _heat_ that reached for him with trembling hands.

"I'm… I'd like that," Ace whispered, little bits of white-hot lava glowing through the cracks in his outer skin like thousands of starry freckles, and Marco was _lost_. "I wouldn't be mad, if you came back again." Definitely not mad. _Never_ mad. The idea of company, of someone who could leave and _come back,_ because he _wanted_ to come back– "and I'd, um, I think I'd be okay to go with you. Eventually."

The idea of _leaving_ had never applied to Ace. He couldn't just yet– he was far too anxious to leave his heart just yet for nearly any amount of time more than he already had, and even that was a stretch. But he wouldn't be opposed forever.

"I'd like that," Marco whispered and his feathers bloomed cool and beautiful around Ace's face when he reached for him. "I'd really like that."

* * *

Written for Marcoace week 2019 on tumblr.

can be taken as either romantic or platonic.


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